Sorry, I can't do replies this time because there's quite a lot of backlog. But I want you all to know from the bottom of my heart that I love you all so much and am so grateful that you're reading this. Let me know what you think of this chapter and I'll try to reply to you next time. Have fun reading, and Merry Christmas! :D
Chapter Five
Peter was delighted to see Abigail in her old dress and cloak, looking exactly like the lost girl she used to be. For a second, he thought that maybe she had re-embraced her old life as well as her old clothes. He felt a twinge in his memory of the first time she had accepted life in Neverland, and it made him grin. She was his again! Finally, after all that time, she belonged once again to him. But he was quickly put straight when she marched right up to him and demanded to see Henry.
Refusing to let her see the disappointment cloud his face, he chuckled darkly, "Still overly protective of people who don't belong to you, I see."
"You don't own Henry," she snapped, "Or the lost boys. And you definitely don't own me. I just need to make sure he's alright."
"You're not his mother, Abby."
"Let me see him!"
Abigail noticed the fleeting look of anger in his eyes but did not notice the look that was passed between him and Felix. The anger faded and, to her discouragement, it was replaced by a jeering smile.
"Fine, I'll take you to him," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder to lead – or rather, pull – her to Henry. She couldn't shake the thick layer of disconcertment from her stomach. Pan was planning something. It wasn't going to be good.
Henry was lying underneath a tall tree, using his coat as a pillow. It didn't look at all comfortable, but there was a sense of peace around him. It struck Abigail then, upon seeing him like that, just how innocent he was. He was naïve. He always had been and despite running away from home, dying, saving Storybrooke and getting kidnapped, he still was. He was always the kid who believed. He believed in Santa longer than any of his classmates. He still believed in the tooth fairy. He definitely believed in fairy tales and true love. And more than anything else, he believed in magic. Henry was the truest believer.
And that was how she realised why Pan wanted him. What she didn't understand, however, was why he needed him.
"Go on," Peter nudged her forwards, "He's right there. Wake him up."
Sending Pan a disapproving look over her shoulder, she crept closer to Henry. She didn't want to disturb him when he looked so peaceful, but she did need to check that he was ok. He began to stir uneasily as she approached.
"Hey, Henry, it's ok," she said softly, crouching beside him, "It's just me."
He relaxed at her voice and opened his eyes. His face brightened hopefully. She felt the same relief that she had felt before. He was ok. Pan still hadn't hurt him. They still had a chance of escaping. They hugged each other tightly for as long as possible. Both were afraid that if they let go, the other would get snatched away and they would be separated for good. There was no way that Pan was going to let them stay together for long. It was too much of a risk. They would conspire.
But they were forced to let go when they heard footsteps crunching into the ground nearby.
"Here," Pan threw then an apple which, this time, Abigail caught. They looked at it wearily.
"We don't like apples," said Henry.
"Who doesn't like apples?"
They shared a look. Abigail found herself smiling at their little in-joke, "It's sort of… a thing with Henry's family."
"Well, don't worry. They're not for eating," Pan crouched in front of them, drawing his crossbow, "It's for a kind of game. A really fun game. I call it target practise," Suddenly, the bow was pointing at Henry's throat. Peter sent Abigail a smirk, "You remember that, right, Abby?"
"What are you doing?" she gasped, pushing the bow away from Henry.
Peter laughed, standing up. There was a menacing glint in his eyes. Abigail couldn't believe that this was the same boy with whom she used to be so close. The same boy who had built her a treehouse and showered her with everything she could possibly have wished for. Something had snapped in him since she had been gone.
Henry was watching Peter with the type of naïve curiosity that too many lost boys had before they were sucked into his little games.
"How do you play?"
"No, Henry, you don't want to play this game," Abigail said, giving Peter a scolding look which he matched with a smile, "He's just testing you."
"Don't listen to her, Henry. Make your own choices for once. You're in Neverland; no one can tell you what to do here."
"Leave him alone!"
"Make me."
"Fine," she stood up and walked closer to him. He watched her, amused, as she took the crossbow from him, "I'll play. Let me do some target practise."
Peter smirked, "Good idea," But then he turned to the Lost Ones, his arms spread out like a great commander, "Boys!"
They surrounded her before she had realised what was happening. Her eyes widened as she realised what he was going to do. Someone grabbed her arms and held them behind her back. She was struggling. She knew what was going to happen. She had seen it. She had done it. She had seen it succeed, and she had seen it fail. It failed more often than it succeeded, and some of those failures she had created herself.
She felt breath on her ear as Felix whispered, "Just stay still. He won't hurt you."
She was shaking so much that the apple wouldn't stay on her head. That was the problem most of the time. Lost boys died when they showed fear. There hadn't been any evidence so far, but she suspected that lost girls did too.
Felix held her as still as he could. He held her arms behind her back with one hand to stop her from running, and had his other arm around her waist both to steady her and offer whatever comfort or reassurance he could. He didn't want her to get hurt. He didn't understand why Peter was doing this. She must have done something to upset him. Felix was pretty sure that he hadn't been thinking of hurting her last night, so something had definitely happened since then.
Peter laughed at the girl in front of him, trembling as she was restrained by his most loyal follower with pathetic tears in her eyes. She was a reduced form of the Neverland Queen he had once known. She wasn't the same person. She had got weak. It was love. It always did this to people. He knew from experience – love was weakness. And she had too much of it. She was too protective of Henry; she clearly loved him like an older sister. He needed to destroy that relationship; he needed to eliminate his competition. And then, when grief toughened her up to her former self, she would be his again.
Before
Flames crackled in the centre of the camp, sending smoke billowing up towards the starless sky. The cries and shouts of children rose up with it. The faint sound of a pipe played in the background, almost hidden by the noise of the boys. Laughter and empty joyfulness echoed around them, thrown back by the shadows of the trees which enclosed them in the space like animals in a cage.
The pipe player was Peter. He was sat on a rock, one leg folded up to his chest with his arm resting on his knee while he played. The boys danced and chanted before him, playing around the fire. Felix stood nearby like a guard, watching in silence.
Shrouded in smoke, a figure different from all the others was dancing too, her skirt flapping around her legs and her wild hair bouncing down her back. With her arms in the air and her head thrown back, she spun on the spot, making her skirt swish the cold night air around her. Both Peter and Felix watched. With a slight curtsey to the boys she had been dancing with, Abigail withdrew from the flames and headed over to the pipe player, still with a skip in her step. Peter stopped playing, but the boys continued dancing.
A smile was lighting up her face even in the night's darkness. As soon as she reached them, she took Peter's hand and he smiled back up at her.
"Dance with me."
He didn't resist, setting his pipe to one side as he stood up. She pulled him over to the fire, swaying to the lost boys' chanting and the sounds of the jungle. She was lost in it. Lost in the jungle, in the sounds, in her head, and in Peter.
They joined in with the boys, stamping their feet, spinning, waving their arms around and making noises like animals. They only let go of each other's hands when they had to, and only for a second. Their bodies were close. Their faces were close. Peter's face was illuminated by the flames and Abigail looked up at him in wonder. He looked down at her in awe. They got closer.
A shout. High and piercing. Peter and Abigail broke apart suddenly as everyone stopped, looking around for the source of the disturbance. One of the smaller boys of the camp had emerged from the edge of the jungle. He was clutching his left arm, blood covering his fingers and more seeping between them. The fire cast shadows across his sickly pale face. He was breathing heavily. He looked as though he was going to pass out or throw up. Or both.
"Brendan!" Peter shouted through the flames, "You're supposed to be on watch!"
"Pirates…" the boy, Brendan, panted, swaying dangerously, "They found us."
"PIRATES?" Abigail yelled, storming towards him, "And you led them here? Are you stupid?!"
Peter grabbed her hand to stop her from getting any closer. He knew what it meant. He knew that it was suddenly dangerous territory. Pirates. Hook. Abigail's father. If he found her, nothing would stop him until he stole her away. He couldn't let her be seen.
But she had other ideas. She wasn't going to let him hide her away so easily. It wasn't like she knew any better.
She turned to the Lost Ones, stubbornness all over her features, "Get the weapons ready!"
Immediately, they burst into action, running around the camp gathering all of their weapons, readying themselves for battle. She joined in the rush, running to Peter's tent where her bow and arrow were kept. Feet thudded on the ground after her.
As she crashed through the flimsy flaps of fabric that acted as a barrier against the world outside of the tent, Peter and Felix were right behind her, barring the way for her exit. She raised an eyebrow, one hand on her hip, the other swinging her pack of arrows over her shoulder.
Peter looked back at her, "You're not fighting them, Abby."
She snorted, "Of course I am! I'm not going to let a bunch of pirates destroy our home."
"I'm not going to let you go out there."
"You're not going to stop me."
He grabbed her arm so suddenly that it made her jump. It was a tighter grip than normal. His eyes were urgent, pleading with her to just listen to him.
"You need to stay here. Felix, watch her. Make sure she isn't seen."
Felix nodded and Peter slipped out of the tent, leaving them alone. Despite Abigail's authority over him, Felix stood firm, stubbornly blocking her way out.
"Why isn't he letting me fight?" she demanded crossly, stamping her foot into the dirt, "He's seen me fight before! I can handle myself with a bunchy of stupid pirates."
Felix's eyes softened but his posture didn't, "He's just trying to keep you safe."
Shouts of rowdy men and the crashing of steel against steel floated in from outside. Abigail's frown deepened.
"I can keep myself safe! What does he think I am? Some sort of pathetic, weak little girl? I'm a fighter!"
"If Pan thinks it's for the best, then it's for the best."
Frustration burst from the pit of her stomach as she shouted, "But I can help! And so can you! Wouldn't you rather be fighting right now than babysitting me?"
"Keep your voice down," He looked around anxiously, his body tensing even more, "And I'd rather be making sure that you're ok."
She snorted, "Some lost boy you are."
But just as she said it, her voice was drowned out by a loud tearing sound. Felix turned around just in time to be whacked around the head by the handle of a sword and his body thumped painfully to the floor.
Abigail aimed her bow and arrow as Captain Hook looked up at his daughter.